


Inamorata

by TheNeptuneViolin



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12471032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNeptuneViolin/pseuds/TheNeptuneViolin
Summary: A prompt fromacotar kink memePrompt: Mor x Nesta; Fashion Designer! AU, Power Play, Dub-con; Mor is THE head of a fashion design company and school. Nesta is a budding young prodigy who was noticed during class by the head of the school. Mor invites her back to her apartment, shows off her wealth and art, and then shows Nesta to her sacred design studio. And then proceeds to fuck her upon the design table. Bonus points: If she promises to make her famous in return for sex. Extra credit: Find ways to use the AU situation for kink purposes (i.e. hot glue play, fabric knowledge put to use for restraints, etc)





	Inamorata

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://torattlethestars.tumblr.com/post/160009439774/inamorata).  
> Feel free to tell me what you think!

Nesta was in class, determined not to fuck this up. She’d worked hard to get a place in the school of her dreams, run by her idol, the paragon of modern fashion design; the woman who was only known to the public as The Morrigan.  Then she had to work her ass off last semester in order to prove she deserved a place in the one class that the Morrigan taught herself.

Not even her Wikipedia page had a name for her; she was only known to the public as The Morrigan. Despite her seeming wish for privacy, in recent years The Morrigan had headed an elite fashion design school, which seemed in line with the excitable personality she always showed the cameras and journalists. And apparently the students she taught too.

Now, Nesta sat listening attentively to every word that came from her mouth, hungrily taking it all in; needing to impress the woman at the front of the room. Nesta couldn’t quite believe that she was in the presence of The Morrigan

As she listened, Nesta tried to work out just what exactly made her outfit so wonderful, spectacular. The sheer cream blouse and dark red skirt were both plain, but Nesta still found herself admiring the way it showed off the woman’s bountiful curves tastefully. And the accents of her gold jewelry… Nesta thought that if she tried that on herself, it would come off as trashy but she made it work. Her golden-blonde hair was swept up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck and she wore a pair of black heels so high that Nesta wasn’t sure how it was possible to walk in them without falling over, but she moved with grace.

When the class was instructed to start sketching designs based on what they were just told, Nesta threw herself into it. This was what she loved; this was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. And she wanted to learn from the best.

Nesta didn’t notice when her idol began to walk around the class and look over her students shoulders. When a hand touched her shoulder, Nesta stiffened in alarm - she didn’t like being touched at the best of times. But the hand released a little, and Nesta relaxed. It was The Morrigan, stood looking down at her, with that characteristic smile she always seemed to wear. It might have been her imagination, but Nesta thought it was a little brighter for her.

Nesta had always assumed that this woman whom she had idolised was much older than her, but up close, Nesta thought the age gap was far smaller than she originally thought, maybe only a few years between them.

“What’s your name,” she asked Nesta quietly, as if she didn’t want to disturb the rest of the class, but her voice still carried authority.

Nesta struggled to summon her voice. “Nesta,” she finally managed to squeeze out.

“Very good, Nesta,” she said, that quiet authority still lingering in her voice, and she wandered to look at the next student’s work. Nesta’s attention lingered on her, and found herself full of pride when she didn’t speak to any other students before Nesta resumed her sketch.

When the bell rang to signal the end of class, over the rustle of papers, Nesta heard a voice call over the rustle of papers, “Nesta Archeron, I’d like a word please.”

Nesta’s throat tightened. Had she done something wrong? Why was she being held back? Her full name; this couldn’t be good.

Nesta stood in front of the desk that The Morrigan sat at and read through some papers, paying no heed to Nesta. The rest of the class had filed out after Nesta had scrambled to the front, trying to be quick to please. (It wasn’t just for the woman she admired so much, but Nesta did have another class next.)

Nesta waited. And waited. And waited and waited and waited to be acknowledged. She was getting annoyed and impatient now. She dared glance at her watch - a small movement which caused a raise of The Morrigan’s eyebrows. It had been five minutes since class ended. Nesta was annoyed.

Eventually she stood up and walked straight passed Nesta, towards the door. Nearly reaching it , she turned back to Nesta with a wicked grin. “Follow me,” she said.

Nesta scurried after her.

Nesta realised where they were headed. The only place they could be going from here was the front gates. “Am I being kicked out?” Nesta managed to ask.

“Of course not,” came the reply, sounding like an amused laugh.

Yet they walked straight out of the gates.

“I have another class now-” Nesta began to protest.

The Morrigan’s reply was dismissive. “I’ll write you a note.”

And to Nesta’s surprise, they walked straight towards a large, sleek black car with a man dressed in a suit stood outside it, waiting.

This was The Morrigan’s car, Nesta realised. And her driver.

Seeing them approach, the driver sprung into action, opening the car door so that they didn’t have to slow town to get in.

As she passed, the Morrigan smiled at the drive. “My apartment please, Ferdinand,” she instructed.

Nesta stopped in surprise, but Ferdinand seemed not to notice anything was odd about the situation and simply replied, “Of course ma’am,” as she slid gracefully into the car.

There was a moment where Nesta was too startled to do much of anything, then another moment of consideration.

“Ma’am?” Ferdinand asked her, still holding the car door open. That was the moment when Nesta decided to damn all of the consequences. She didn’t think she was getting into the car of an axe murderer, anyway.

Nesta slid into the car too, and the door shut behind her.

Nesta was amazed by the luxury inside the car too. The plush leather seats, the mahogany finish to the inside of the doors. Nesta hadn’t seen so much subtle luxury in person before.

The car started to pull away, when Nesta noticed The Morrigan, sat on the other side of the car, shift forward in her seat a little. And the bubbly grin on her face turn slightly wicked. “In private,” she started slowly, planting each word with care, “You may call me Mor.”

Such private information gifter to her! Nesta decided to try the name on her tongue. “Mor,” Nesta whispered quietly, almost to herself but she knew Mor could hear. Mor, Mor _, Mor_ ** _,_** **Mor** ** _, Mor._**

And Nesta knew Mor could see the effect this was having on her. Mor’s grin had widened as she stared at Nesta for a second and then proceed to ignore her for the rest of the car journey.

As they reached Mor’s apartment, Nesta was still non the wiser about why they were here. She allowed herself to be led inside.

Mor showed her some of the luxuries she kept inside - the artwork on the wall that each cost more money than Nesta could have ever hoped to own on her life, the old sketched and prototypes of the more popular clothes more had designed and some favorites of hers that didn’t get as much love, the furniture that was classy and so expensive that Nesta daren’t touch anything. Needless to say, Nesta was amazed.

Mor stopped at a closed door. Then, leaning on the doorframe, turned to face Nesta with a sly grin. “Inside here is my private studio.” Mor lent on the doorknob  and twisted. A kick near the bottom of the door, pushing it open. “I don't bring many people in here.”

As the door swung open, Nesta held her breath in anticipation. Mor walked in.

The walls were lilac in colour, subtler than the rest of the house in an effort to not overwhelm the creativity but still bright enough for Mor’s bright personality. On one wall there was a bookshelf, though only the top shelf held books. The others held ring binders and swaths of fabric.  The desk was mostly clear, but the pens and papers and things on it were strewn about chaotically as if the creative processes couldn't be slowed long enough to organise. On the other side of the desk was a sewing machine with scraps of fabric and needles and pins, wit a row of hooks above with all manner of accessories hanging down. More fabric was piled under the desk and sticking out of the chest of draws to the left of the desk. The large leather chair sat in front of the desk looking invitingly comfortable.

While Nesta was taking everything in, Mor had walked over to the windowsill where the hot glue gun rested, and had plugged it into the socket on the wall.

Nesta stepped over the threshold of the room, expecting it to feel somehow different. It didn’t. Nesta carefully walked over to the desk and ran her fingers lightly over the edge, just trying to understand why she was here, what Mor wanted with her. Trying to show herself that this was real by rooting herself to the physicality of it. The world was still tangible to her but not in the same way it had been when Nesta woke up this morning.

She looked up to Mor in hopes for more explanations of the things in the room or why she had chosen Nesta out of the entire class. Instead of explanations, Nesta found Mor’s face looking at her expectantly. And that worried Nesta because she didn’t know what to say. And Nesta still really needed to impress Mor.

At risk of sounding stupid, Nesta decided to ask, “Why did you bring me here? Why me?” After weighing up all the pros and cons, Nesta had decided that the only way to move forward was to figure out why she had been singled out. Then she could figure out what she could do for Mor.

“You’re cute,” Mor replied with a suggestive grin.

Nesta was taken aback. No one just came out and told her things like this out of the blue. She had walls in place to ward people off - her career needed to come first. Nesta had never let a lover in so far so quickly. And maybe what hurt the most is that Mor didn’t even have to know that. Mor had been inside Nesta’s walls for years now, and Nesta had allowed that because Mor was unobtainable. There was such a low chance of ever even meeting Mor that Nesta had allowed her through; and there was an even lower chance of Mor wanting Nesta… Nesta wanted to hope but still she daren’t.

“You’re cute, Nesta,” Mor repeated as if she could tell Nesta didn’t quite believe what she just heard. “I like the flick of your nose, the smattering of freckles across your cheeks, the curve of your hips.” Mor had stepped closer to Nesta - so close that they were almost touching. And Nesta had been forced backwards, the back of her thighs pressed against the edge desk now. And they were so close that Nesta had a wonderful view of Mor’s rich brown eyes that were staring so intently at her.

Nesta suddenly felt insecure about her body - she didn’t like this close scrutiny.

And once again Mor seemed to notice her indecision or maybe uncomfort and took another step closer to close the physical space between them. Their hips were touching now.

“And also your design from today was spectacular.” A mischievous grin.

Then Nesta found Mor’s mouth on top of hers. Kissing her. And Nesta found herself kissing back.

This kiss was soft, almost in question - testing the waters. Maybe Nesta could permit this touching, this baring of herself to Mor.

Mor’s hands travelled to Nesta’s waist and began stroking her a little through the clothes.

Mor pulled back a little, and Nesta found herself missing the contact though Mor was still very close. There was a moment of nothingness as the silence expanded around them, their breaths mingled.

Mor leaned forward again, so Nesta closed her eyes in anticipation of another kiss. It never arrived.

Instead Nesta heard Mor’s voice in her ear. “Have sex with me, Nesta.”

Nesta noticed the stillness of Mor’s hands, now resting on Nesta’s hips. Nesta didn’t move either.

“I will make sure you get an A in my class.”

“Mor-” Nesta’s voice came out a little shakier than she would have liked.

Nesta felt Mor shift forward again. She felt Mor’s breath on her ear. “If you’re really good-” a pause as Nesta waited for the universe to collapse in on itself from all the tension- “I can make you famous.”

At that, Nesta moved her hands from where they gripped the edge of the desk and onto Mor’s waist.

Once again, Mor’s body was flush against Nesta’s. Mor’s mouth began to nip at her ear, and down the side of her neck. Nesta let out a whimper. This was the signal for Mor’s mouth to became harder and more insistent against Nesta’s skin.

Mor’s mouth found it’s way back to Nesta’s. This time the kiss was harder. Mor was in control now- more insistent. And this time Mor’s tongue forced it’s way into Nesta’s mouth.

Nesta felt tugging at the hem of her shirt as Mor pulled it out from where it was tucked into her waistband and then over her head, leaving Nesta’s plain cotton bra exposed. Nesta pulled at Mor’s shirt in return, but Mor stepped away from her.

A stern look from, almost as if chiding a child. “ _You_ don’t get to go that.”

Mor leant closer again but not as close as Nesta would have liked, and Mor’s hands went to fastenings on Nesta’s trousers. Deftly pulling them apart, exposing Nesta’s underpants - once again plain and cotton and not matching her bra. In all fairness, Nesta hadn’t anticipated anyone else seeing her underwear when she got dressed that morning.

As her trousers were pulled over the ridge of her ass, Mor’s hands let go, allowing them to fall onto the floor and instead Nesta found the warmth of Mor’s palms on her cheeks.

Where it wasn’t covered, Nesta found her flesh boiling where they met. Grasping handfuls of the flesh there, pulling at it, feeling it. Feeling Nesta.

And when fingers slipped under the flimsy material, Nesta groaned. True handfulls of all of her ass. And Mor was once again against her.

So Nesta instigated a kiss.

Nesta was light, aware that she was not in charge here, not wanting to lose the feel of Mor’s body against hers again. Mor was not. She was heavy and wanting as she demanded all of Nesta.

Mor broke the kiss as she unhooked Nesta’s bra. Nesta, not to be held back by the ugliness of her bra, took the opportunity to fling it across the room, not caring where it went, only that it was away from her.

Another wicked grin from Mor. “Eager, aren’t we?”

Mor’s gaze dropped from Nesta’s face, where she was sure her lips had become swollen, to her chest where mor looked approvingly at the peaked nippples and saw just how exited Nesta had become - it wasn’t a cold day.

Nesta stepped forward again to resume … whatever she had gotten herself into, but found firm hands on her shoulders pushing her back. “No. I want to look at you.”

Nesta didn’t enjoy being looked at, particularly in this vulnerable state. “I’m sorry that they’re not good enough,” she began. Her boobs were all lopsided and covered in stretch marks-

Mor cut of her thoughts. “Don’t say that. You’re perfect.”

Nesta was a little confused at the comment. “But-” she began.

“Perfect.” Mor asserted as her hands connected with the soft flesh.

Featherlight touches as her fingertips traced circles, spiraling in to meet the pink of her nipples. Then a little harder as one index finger raked up to meet the underside of her breast. And harder again as Mor began to palm her breasts.

When Mor’s tongue met with the soft flesh where her palms were only moments before, Nesta struggled to keep herself upright. If the desk wasn’t right behind her, Nesta was sure she would have fallen over. She gripped the edge once again for support, not trusting her own legs

And then Mor’s teeth. She nipped at Nesta, leaving small red welts in her wake. Nesta had tipped her head back from the pleasure. The combination of Mor’s teeth tongue and lips almost made Nesta’s knees buckle underneath her.

Mor tugged and pinched at Nesta’s nipples, pulling sensations from them. She varied the light teases from her fingertips in amongst the sharp nips with her teeth. Nestsa moaned with the pleasure, at sometimes with the pain.

Mor’s hands then went for her underwear. Mor’s palm slipped against her flesh, her bare skin, feeling all the heat that had pooled between Nesta’s thighs. Her middle finger slipped up between the fold of skin there, feeling her most sensitive parts. And how wet Nesta was for her.

No more teasing. Mor’s hand removed itself from Nesta and stopped teasing as her panties were pulled down, leaving Nesta entirely naked as Mor remained fully clothed.

There was another pause as Mor looked over Nesta. The the delicate glancing of her fingertips down from Nesta’s breasts, down the plane of her stomach, down gently to the apex of her thighs. Nesta tried to repress the shudder at the sensation.

Mor’s voice was suddenly sharp and instructive. “Onto the desk.”

Nesta turned to try and navigate herself around the scattered pens.

Mor didn’t let this slow her down. “All the best things happen on that desk,” she said with a wicked grin, and then with one large movement of her arm, she leant around Nesta and swept all the pens and papers from the desk onto the floor, clearing it for her. Mor lifted Nesta, cupping her ass as she raised it the few inches to force Nesta onto the desk.

Nesta, now perched on the edge of the desk, felt Mor’s hands spreading apart her thighs. She was now in full view for Mor.

Mor brought both hands back to Nesta and parted her lips to peer in. She stared for another moment. Then a curt nod as Mor’s fingers began to explore a little more.

But not as much as Nesta wanted. Not as much as Nesta _needed_.

Mor tool a step back once more. “Please,” Nesta whimpered.

“Touch yourself for me, Nesta,” Mor commanded, ignoring Nesta’s request.

As much as Nesta didn’t want to obey, _she had self control, dammit_ , her fingers found her clit. She had wanted Mor’s fingers to find their way there. Nesta was so ready for Mor there.

Nesta’s fingers rubbed small circles against the bundle of nerves. Too hard, too fast. Too desperately. _At least a little self control?_

“Good girl, Nesta. Keep doing that for me.”

Mor reached for the zip at the side of her skirt. Slow and careful - every movement deliberate, until she let the bright red fall to the floor, revealing the lacy black lingerie she had on. Mor took one graceful step out of the skirt.

Then her hands went to the blouse. One button undone at a time. And with each button, Nesta felt a little of herself undo.

At last, Mor let the material slip from her shoulders, gracefully catching it and slinging over the top of an open draw deliberately.

Nesta’s breath caught. Mor was so beautiful, stood in that set of matching lacy black lingerie, clearly designed to appeal, and her black heels. All of her generous curves were so freely visible to her - and only her. If given the chance, Nesta could have stared at her all day.

Mor stepped back into Nesta, pausing in between her legs where they were spread wide. Nesta’s hand paused.

Then Mor pushed herself onto the desk next to Nesta and then tucked her legs beneath her to kneel on the desk. Mor’s warm hands then pulled at Nesta’s thighs to spin her around to face her.

Mor’s hand went to Nesta’s vulva again, but this time she found her clit. Nesta tipped back her head at the sensation, once more bracing herself with her hands.

Mor’s fingers were magical - Nesta had never felt so good. The motions Mor made against her had Nesta moaning aloud. She didn’t think it could get much better than this.

That was until Mor lowered her face down to Nesta.

Mor licked and sucked at her clit and Nesta couldn’t keep herself upright anymore. Her arms collapsed beneath her and Nesta fell back as the pleasure escalated.

Nesta was almost there, at the peak of pleasure, when Mor pulled back. Nesta tried to sit up see what had changed, but a firm hand pushed her back down.

Then she felt a single finger slip inside her.

Nesta stopped pushing back upwards and lay into the pleasure once more.

The finger pulsed in and out, slowly at first, but with Nesta’s slickness it easily sped up. Much to Nesta’s pleasure.

Nesta could see Mor’s face as she leant over her. Mor was grinning like a cat and her eyes shining, so very pleased with herself at what she had managed to do to Nesta.

And then another finger slipped inside. And Nesta stopped caring to see around her; her vision failed her. The pleasure was too good.

Mor’s other hand had gone back to Nesta’s breast, the heel of her hand kneading the soft flesh there while her fingertips teased her nipple. Damn, Mor knew how to work Nesta’s body.

Nesta could feel herself reaching the apex of her pleasure. Nearly there, nearly there. She let go of what little control she still had left of her body - her back arched and a moan escaped her mouth in orgasm.

It took Nesta a few moments of heavy breathing to realise that the hands had left her body. It took her a few more to realise that Mor was halfway across the room, looking done with this encounter, and most disappointingly was going to say nothing to Nesta as she left.

That just wouldn’t do. Nesta hadn’t even gotten Mor naked yet.

In a moment of boldness - which probably wouldn’t have occurred if Nesta hadn’t just come off the high of her orgasm - Nesta sprang from the desk and was across the room in a flash and grabbed Mor’s wrist.

Nesta put on her best bedroom eyes. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Mor’s eyebrows raised a little as Nesta tugged on her wrist - maybe a little harshly - and pushed Mor into the large leather chair, still sat in front of the desk.

Nesta pushed Mor’s shoulders firmly back into the chair to make enough room for her too. Nesta placed one knee on either side of Mor’s thigh to straddle her.

Nesta began to grind her hips against Mor’s.

She stared into her eyes for a moment before leaning down into a kiss. This one was hard and demanding as Mor once again took from Nesta; made her weak. Mor’s hands were at her hips as they ground against her; Nesta’s hands wove their way into Mor’s hair, but found themselves stuck against the pins holding it in place.

Nesta, in an attempt to gain her control back, leant back from the kiss and removed her hands from where they were caught.

Staring into Mor’s eyes she pulled each pin out. One by one she dramatically held each pin out to the side before letting it drop to the floor. Each time she heard it fall before she began on the next, all the while staring into her eyes.

As soon as all of the pins were free, Nesta’s fingers were running themselves through the silky locks. Nesta lent in to kiss again.

As she leant forward, Nesta was reminded of the fabric separating their bodies.

As good as Mor’s lingerie looked on her, Nesta decided it needed to go.

Nesta’s fingers found the clasp on Mor’s bra and unhooked it. Nesta pulled it way revealing the two full breasts and two nipples that he peaked for her. Nesta saw perfection.

Nesta’s hands were all over them. A little to rushed and hurried because she was desperate for this woman. Her palms and fingertips didn’t move with the same finesse that Mor’s had on her body, but Nesta saw Mor’s pleasure all the same.

“Use your mouth for me, Nesta.”

Nesta curved her back to arch into her breast while she still sat on Mor’s lap. She found herself missing the closeness of their bodies pushed against each other.

Her lips met with Mor’s nipple. She started with a soft kiss, and let herself trace them across her breast.

Nesta slid backwards off Mor’s lap, trailing her kisses downwards, across the taught plane of her stomach, down to where Nesta’s mouth met the black lace.

Nesta was knelt between Mor’s spread legs staring at the spot on the opaque material where Mor’s wetness had seeped through. Nesta’s hands went to Mor’s hip to pull the material away from her body. Mor raised her hips just enough for Nesta to pull the lingerie off her generous curves, down her smooth, muscles thighs and down to the floor where Mor removed her feet.

Nesta scrunched up the material into her hand before bringing it to her face to sniff. The sweet scent of female arousal filled her nostrils, before Nesta discarded the material in favour of the source of the smell.

She leant in to use her hands; to spread her lips and peer into Mor’s full glory. Her slickness that was coating everything; Mor was so wet for her. For _Nesta_. Nesta used one hand to touch Mor’s clit, rubbing small circles in the way always used when mastubating. Nesta just hoped that it felt as good to Mor as it did to her.

When Nesta looked up from what she was doing, she was delighted to see Mor’s hands curled over and tightly gripping the arms of her chair. Mor stared down at Nesta intently.

With the knowledge that she wasn’t doing terribly, Nesta decided to bring her face down to Mor’s vulva, to use her mouth on her clit. Nesta resumed her kisses; up the insides of Mor’s thighs before settling once again at Mor’s clit.

“Use your tongue too, Nesta,” Mor commanded.

So Nesta obeyed. And earnt herself a breathy moan.

Nesta leant back to see Mor, where she found her head tilted back in pleasure.

“Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Nesta put her head back down and resumed her licking, her hands placed on Mor’s inner thighs and occasionally moving them up and down, and sometimes sucking all of that little bundle of nerves into her mouth.

Nesta brought one of her hands to Mor’s entrance; one finger slipped in, all the while keeping her lips and tongue focused on Mor’s clit. She used that finger to stroke the upper wall, finding that small area of differently textured skin.

Mor’s hands were then on Nesta’s head, pushing her down into her. “Good girl,” she moaned, but still keeping up that authoritative tone.

Mor’s fingers began to weave themselves furiously into Nesta’s hair, still pushing her down. Mor’s feet were placed firmly on the floor as her hips bucked upwards and began to rock into Nesta.

Nests kept up her steady rhythm, watching as she brought Mor to the edge. As she toppled over it, Nesta kept her pressure steady against Mor’s quaking thighs. Mor’s voice was soft as she moaned to Nesta, “Good girl.”

With no pause for reprieve, Mor immediately pushed her hips from the front edge of her seat to the back and away from Nesta. “Onto the desk,” her voice once again holding the position of commander over Nesta, not in the way she had just been praising Nesta as if she was a small child.

Nesta rushed to scramble back onto the table, not wanting to disobey. Mor, on the other hand, was slow and graceful and careful with her movements as she rose from her throne and turned away from Nesta. She opened one of the draws and pulled out a few different looking strips of black material.

She walked back to Nesta and set all three strips on the desk, next to where Nesta sat.

Mor picked up the longer, softer looking strip. “Your hands,” She demanded. Nesta extended her arms out in front of her. “This,” Mor said placing the strip under Nesta’s wrists, “Is nylon tricot - the most common material used for aerial silks. This much is strong enough to hold up your entire body.”

Mor had wrapped the material around Nesta’s wrists several times and tied it with a complicated looking knot. Mor then forced Nesta’s hands over her head to the wall behind her and twisted more of the fabric onto the hooks there. Nesta tried to pull her hands apart and away from the wall but only found that she was well and truly stuck.

Mor picked up the next strip of material. “This,” she said, moving to Nesta’s ankle, pulling it to the leg of the desk, leaving Nesta slumped backwards in a rather uncomfortable position, “Is genuine leather, which I suspect you already know all about.” As Mor looked up at Nesta, there was a twinkle in her eye which looked more like the bubbly woman she knew of from afar.

Nesta found that her leg was too well and truly fastened in place too.

Mor plucked up the last piece of material, lifting it to Nesta’s face. “This is thirty momme silk charmeuse. One of the heaviest, thickest and most durable silks you can get while still keeping the smoothness without going into raw silk. And also some of the most expensive.”

Mor tied the silk around Nesta’s eyes as a blindfold, with another secure knot at the back of her head, where Nesta could feel the loose ends dangling down her bare back.

There were moments of nothing. Nesta waited for something to happen to her; for Mor to do something to her. After all, Nesta couldn’t do anything tied up like this.She was stuck until someone let her out.

Nesta silently cursed the quiet grace she had watched Mor move with. She could elegantly float around the room and Nesta would be none the wiser. Heck, Mor could have left the room by now, continued going on with her day, and Nesta wouldn’t know. And that infuriated Nesta. She was sat here, ready for Mor, needing her and yet Nesta could be forgotten, and still, Nesta knew in her heart that whenever Mor came back to her, Nesta would want her all the same.

Then Nesta felt something warm and metal press into the outside of her breast; dig in a little. Nesta tried to place what it could be - without her sight she was lost. It was round - small, smaller than the width of her little finger nail. Then Nesta felt a sharp pinprick of pain as a sudden coldness appeared on her skin. No, it was so hot that it felt cold for the first moment. Nesta thought she had gasped, only a small sound, but she was so lost in herself that she couldn’t be sure whether she made a sound at all. As the fluid spread across her skin, Nesta felt it cool to match the temperature of her body and felt it harden into something solid pulling the skin taught where they had connected.

_Of course! The hot glue gun! How could Nesta be so stupid and forget the first thing Mor did as she came into the room? And all because she couldn’t see…_

Nesta felt the nozzle of the gun lift away from her skin. Nesta waited for the next point of contact. The moments of anticipation filled with vast amounts of nothing. Just waiting. And waiting and waiting and waiting. Not knowing where Mor was, not knowing what she was doing, was killing Nesta.

Then Nesta felt it. More glue cooling against her other breast, this time splashed after falling from a height. The glue had enough time to cool in the air as it fell that it felt hot this time and Nesta felt herself flinch away as it landed.

The next drop felt cold when it landed on Nesta before burning into her again. This one had splashed less too, forming a bead, so Nesta reasoned that it must have been dropped from close to her skin this time.

Each drop left Nesta waiting for the next sensation, wondering where it would be, how much it would hurt and just how _good_ it would feel. Because it did feel good - the chill that turned to heat all heightened by the anticipation and long waits between. She was gled Mor had tied her down. Though she had writhed a little each time the hot glue had met with her flesh, she was glad she couldn’t have moved away from the sensations.

Mor didn’t stop adding glue until Nesta’s breasts were entirely covered, and so was most of her stomach. From the excess that had dripped and the little pools that had been placed there deliberately.

Nesta found herself feeling disappointed when she heard the sound of plastic clunking on the wooden desk. The glue gun had been put down. Instead Nesta heard Mor rustling around with something - maybe searching for something, judging from the metallic clinks nesta heard. Mor hadn’t gone far, either. Maybe she was rifling around in the box on the desk, the one next to the sewing machine.

The clinking stopped again. And Nesta waited again as the silence expanded around her.

Then Nesta felt something on her arm. Smooth and flat. Long and thin. And cold. Really cold this time. It felt like the wrong side of a knife

“I’m going to take all of the glue off you now.”

Then the object had moved to her collar bone, just above where the glue began. It slid down to meet the glue, paused for a moment and jammed itself under the glue.

This was a different sort of pain. It hurt, but was still on the bearable end of the spectrum, not like when she broke her arm when she was eight. This was the kind of pain that was only sharp for a second before it was gone, though Nesta suspected her skin would be red and raw later. And Nesta wanted this pain. This was good pain, especially from someone she admired so much. All Nesta wanted was to please Mor.And if she felt good in the process; even better!

Mor worked whatever it was she held down Nesta’s front, pulling the hardened glue off in little sections working closer and closer to the end; to just above Nesta’s genitals where Mor had carefully placed the last of the glue. And Nesta wanted Mor to get there now. Especially if something else happened while she was down there.

At long last, Mor reached that last, long line of glue that Nesta could not forget about. Slicing it off slowly as Nesta groaned. Here she felt it in her clit; it was all so close and connected.

Nesta knew that Mor could see how wet she was. She hoped Mor would take mercy on her, that she was done with the teasing.

In this dark silence, Nesta waited again, not sure how much more of this she could take.

This silence was the shortest. All Nesta heard was one more metallic clank as if whatever implement had just been used on her had been returned to it’s home.

Then Nesta felt Mor. Her hand this time, not some proxy to tease her with. Her hand down between Nesta’s thighs, fulfilling the last of Nesta’s wishes.

“Judging by how wet you are, you must have really enjoyed that.” Her finger slipped in -  just a little, still teasing Nesta.

“Yes,” Nesta gasped, so desperate. Wanting more.

“Do you want more?” he finger wriggled inside her a little.

Nesta knew she almost came at that and ruined the whole event for herself. “I want you,” she managed to squeeze out past the desperation, holding that waiting orgasm in.

“Me? What about me?”

“Your hands. I want you to make me come with your hands.” Her words were so desperate and rushed that nesta wasn’t sure anybody else would be able to understand the,.

“My hands?” Mor’s voice asked incredulously. “You're going to need to ask me better than that.” her finger was removed.

Nesta knew she was being a needy mess, but she also knew she needed Mor’s hands **now**. And Nesta was willing to beg if that’s what it took.

“I want you to finger me. I want you to rub my clit and I want you to make me come.”

A moment of nothing. Nesta heard nothing, felt nothing, sensed nothing as she strained behind her blindfold to notice any changes.

“Please, Mor. I need you to make me come. I’m so close. Please?”

Mor’s hands returned; one to her clit and one hand balanced just outside her entrance.

Nesta’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Mor wasn’t done teasing her. Nesta still needed more.

A moment then, “Like this?” One of Mor’s fingers slid inside Nesta, the other hand began to work on her clit. This was what Nesta wanted; so much stimulation. It felt so good

And Nesta finally topppled over that last precipice. She wanted to stop herself, but found that she couldn’t. She had wanted to revel in the pleasure but she just couldn’t do it.

Nesta was left heaving on the table, breath pounding out of her making the only sounds until Nesta regained herself enough to finally speak. “Yes. Exactly like that.”

Nesta felt the bonds around her wrists loosen, Mor’s hands unworking the knot. Her hands were free.

Nesta ripped off the blindfold to see the world mostly unchanged other that the dried glue covering the floor beneath her.

Mor had slipped her shirt over her shoulders and was walking to the door. Mor was leaving and Nesta couldn’t stop her this time. She wouldn’t be able to untie herself fast enough.

She glanced over her shoulder to speak to Nesta, almost as an afterthought. “I showed you where the bathroom is. There are towels in there. Ferdinand will take you wherever you need to go.” A pause to look into Nesta’s eyes, “I’ll see you in class.”

Mor walked out, shutting the door behind her.


End file.
